Jerza Love Fest 2017
by wordslinger
Summary: My submissions for the Jerza Love Fest 2017 prompts on tumblr. Jerza.
1. Chapter 1

**_Day One: Seduction_**

* * *

She doesn't need to try so hard but she does. He thinks she enjoys it. She likes the process and never uses her magic. He waits, drink in hand. It's always a different bar or restaurant. Sometimes he travels – sometimes _she_ travels. Sometimes it seems like work never stops. Especially now that he's living a life of titles and duties again.

When they're at home in Magnolia it goes differently but tonight they're in Crocus. He can tell her mood based on the address. He always arrives first. He is never late. The place is full of crystal and low lighting and has live music. He appreciates the low key setting even if the glitz itself couldn't be low key if it _tried._

He prefers bourbon. It's dark and rich and sears the back of his throat. Erza has always liked her sake but he knows she won't be drinking tonight. She never drinks when she meets him like this.

The dress is long but so is the slit. He's seen just about every centerfold of _Sorcerer Weekly_ – Erza has a subscription – and many beautiful women have graced the pages but none of them have legs like Erza. There's power in her stride even when she's not in boots. Her toes are painted a shimmering silver and stand out against the black straps. Over the last year he's realized he has a shoe preference. He likes straps and peep toes. He likes to see her ankles, too. No booties. Her dress is black satin and the low lights cling to every fold of fabric even though it does nothing but cancel them out. Erza is nothing if not overwhelming and consuming. He loves it.

She joins him at the bar and orders champagne. She likes the bubbles. Her lipstick is a bright red but pales in comparison to the red that hangs about her naked shoulders. Sometimes she curls it. Sometimes it's up and in a twist. Tonight she's blown it out into something sleek his fingers itch to ruin. Later he will but for now he'll play her game.

Erza crosses her legs once she's on a stool and the slid of her dress falls open. When he leans in to kiss her in a greeting his hand boldly slides all the way up her thigh until just past the edges of satin. She turns her head and his kiss falls on her cheek. It's too early for her to ruin her lipstick but that, too, will be ruined by night's end.

Even though he saw her earlier in the day and scent of her still mingled in the sheets of his bed away from home, he listens with half an ear as she tells him about her latest job and how messy working with Natsu still is – and will always be – but he knows she loves it. The only member of her guild more destructive than Erza is Natsu and if she stays with him she won't ever take the full blame. Natsu doesn't care about things like that but Erza does. _Laxus_ does.

Her champagne is nearly flat when she slides off her stool and leaves him at the bar. He pays and follows her from the lounge to the elevators. A crowd of young mages in the city for some political nonsense he's already forgotten about watches her every move as she crosses the lobby. Her heels click on the marble floors and her hair flutters behind her.

They _stare._

They stare at her. And, of course, they also stare at him. He is unmistakable. The mark on his face would give him away in any locale but in Crocus and Era there aren't many who don't know him. The position he holds. The magic he commands. The things he's done. Most often he hates the renown but tonight he touches the small of her back with his hand and leans in to plant an unnecessary kiss on the curve of her neck.

Or maybe the kiss was completely necessary.

When they step into the elevator and turn to face the lobby, he decides it was necessary. Erza flips her hair over her shoulder and a few glossy strands of crimson stick to the shoulder of his suit. It isn't intentional but the crowd of young men are still watching and he soaks it all in. To them, _Titania Erza_ is beautiful and untouchable. She is terrifying and strong. There is a certain prideful pleasure he takes in knowing that she is _absolutely_ touchable.

Her hair still clings to his shoulder when the doors slide shut. His mouth curls into a very _Siegrain_ -like grin at the last moment. He knows they see it.

The elevator stops on the forty-second floor and Erza steps out first. Even though he carries the room key she leads the way. He doesn't mind trailing from behind. The view is better from here. Their room is opulent and outrageous and inexcusably ostentatious. The way Erza pulls her hair over one shoulder and wordlessly exposes her back to him is the same. He pulls the zipper down slowly and the dress pools at her feet. Ripples of black satin hide her sparkling toes. Erza hasn't worn a thing underneath. Not a single scrap of lace. She turns to him and the still perfect tips of her hair hang over her breasts.

Erza is _perfect._

 _He_ is scarred and ruined and calloused but there is nothing about _her_ that isn't absolutely flawless. He lets her push the suit top over his shoulders. It falls carelessly to the floor in an ugly lump. Nothing like rippling satin. She takes his buttons one by one and her eyes never leave his.

The shirt stays on. His belt buckle is difficult and she's growing impatient but he doesn't interfere. Her black heels make it easier for her to crouch and he wishes he were standing closer to something to grip besides her hair. Even after all this time he still isn't ever quite prepared for her lips on his cock or the expert way she takes him all the way to the back of her throat. When he's gasping for breath and his fingers have only just begin their job of tangling her hair, she pulls away. There's a ring of bright red lipstick left on his skin.

The lipstick is the first thing she washes away once they're in the shower but there's places she's marked him that can't ever be washed away.

* * *

The bartender doesn't bat an eyelash at her anymore. The Chairman is often in town on official Magic Council business and it isn't uncommon for his wife to follow. He's used to the game they play in his lounge. Sometimes he does wonder, though, who seduces who. He also supposes it doesn't matter.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Note: I'll be traveling tomorrow and won't have time to post.**_

* * *

 _ **Day Two: Kink**_

* * *

It was an accident at first. They ducked out of a New Year's Eve party for a quick go in a storage closet. The hallway had been empty when they'd first found it but after a while the dark corridor attracted others looking for a moment alone. The sound of company alarmed her and she'd stuffed her nearly forgotten panties into the pocket of his trousers. There was _something_ about the knowledge that she'd had them against her body only moments before that excited him. An incredibly personal item of hers was now crumpled in his pocket and his hand strayed there more than once as the night played out.

The second time was more deliberate. Laxus's birthday had always been a wild affair. He'd been half drunk when Erza dragged him away to a dark corner behind the guildhall. But half sober was enough to remember he wanted the panties in his pocket. Erza raised an eyebrow but said nothing about his prize.

However, the third occurrence was entirely Erza. Thirty-three wasn't much of a milestone in his mind. He didn't care. Everything after twenty was a bonus, in his opinion. Somewhere between the shots of gold tequila and something else much darker his mind got sloshy. Everything spun in loops and circles until a flash of scarlet gripped him tight. She smiled and planted a kiss that smelled like vodka on the corner of his mouth. Her hand dipped into his pocket and her tongue flicked out to brush his bottom lip. She didn't leave his side again that night and his fingers drew formless shapes on her hip where her panty line would normally be.

Sometimes she brought the panties to him on her own. Sometimes his hand would close around her elbow _just so_. He liked it.

He _loved_ it.

For the last two years he'd dragged himself to Crocus in the dead of winter for the Solstice Ball. Sometimes he wasn't sure where the pretense was most intolerable. Era, with it's stiff backbone of politics or Crocus with all the glitter of royalty and pomp. Crocus had better drinks, so at least there was that.

Erza's silver dress was absolute sorcery. The fabric looked as if it _should_ be transparent but revealed nothing. She joined him at his side and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the material. His fingers brushed over a familiar spot on her hip and the dress fell low enough on her back that his thumb easily reached bare skin. The dress clung to her in a seemingly impossible way.

As Chairman of the Magic Council everyone present wanted a scrap of his time. Could he just listen to this proposal? Or perhaps take a peek at that scroll? Maybe if he might spend just a second to speak with someone about some guild or another? He'd become a pro at schmooze. Give them just enough to give the impression of interest before slipping out of reach.

"Long night, Chairman?" her breath was wintergreen against the back of his neck.

"The longest," he said finishing off what he hoped would be his final drink of the evening. "I wondered where you'd gone."

"I'm bored," she whispered, tucking lightly into his side. Her hair fell in curls over her shoulders and bare back. Tonight her smile was a deep mauve and he wanted nothing more than to press her cheek to the wall of their hotel room and kiss it away before moving to the spot behind her ear he favored.

"I'm sorry, love, it won't be much longer." He touched her between her shoulder blades and enjoyed the curls of scarlet mingling with his fingers. When she peeked up at him it was through thick, black lashes. One hand slid into his pocket and the other touched the lapel of his suit.

"Maybe a little incentive?" Erza turned and left him at the table of empty crystal. He watched her go with indecent interest.

It wasn't until halfway through a slog of a conversation with a person who's name he could not remember that his hand dipped into his left pocket. A scrap of fabric whisper thin greeted his fingers. He almost wasn't sure what it was at first. But how could he not?

"My apologies, Chairman," the man said with concern. "Are you well?"

"No, I think the heat of the fires is getting to me," he apologized. "Send your proposals to my secretary, and she'll make sure they wind up on my desk."

"Of course, Chairman, thank you."

He bowed deeply and excused himself.

* * *

Erza waited for him in their hotel room near the picture windows. The glass was thick and proofed for extreme weather but her shoulder was cold where she'd leaned against it.

"I expected you sooner," she said, setting aside her glass.

"I imagine you did." He left his jacket on a chair and his shirt fell carelessly to the floor. When he joined her at the window, he peeled one strap of the silver dress from her shoulder. "I didn't realize panties could be so small."

She laughed. "I almost forwent them altogether but I thought maybe they'd come in handy." Erza reached behind her to close her fingers around the metal of his belt buckle.

He gathered the mass of scarlet curls in his hands and kissed her neck. "I'm glad one of us was thinking ahead."

The dress shimmered even in the limited moonlight that spilled from the window. He only tossed it aside once she'd sighed a final time and left the last of her lipstick on his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Day Three: Whisper**_

* * *

He's heard his name plenty of times over the years. Sometimes it's been a shout or a sob or a scream. Sometimes out of fear or anger. Sometimes not. Now his name is mostly said in an official way. Business-like. Chairman Fernandes or Saint Fernandes. When he's home in Magnolia it's mostly Fernandes or just Jellal.

The way his name falls from Erza's lips is his favorite. There's the formal tone she takes on for official guild business. There's another, more playful, tone she uses for unofficial but still public settings. When they're at home she's quieter. Softer. She asks him if he's hungry or thirsty or tired. If he prefers the blue sheets or the purple. When it's dark, she beckons him into bed.

His favorite, though, is when she whispers. Not just any whisper but the breathless sort of whisper that comes after a gasp. Her chin tilts up and it's a perfect time to leave kisses along the underside of her jaw. The _most perfect_ time, actually. Sometimes it's an urgent gasping whisper and sometimes it sounds like a prayer.

He never thought his name could sound so beautiful. Though, he supposes, it's only beautiful because Erza is whispering it.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Note: Not my best work but I really wanted to finish the event on time._**

* * *

 **** ** _Day Four: Halloween_**

* * *

Erza tackled Halloween just like anything else – with unmatched gusto. Over the course of the evening he'd lost track of her costume changes. Jellal stayed parked at the bar with Laxus. They wore nearly identical, generic black vampire capes that Mirajane called _Boring Husband Capes._ He wasn't sorry to see the evening end.

She saved her final requip for when he least expected it. The lace was _startlingly_ red and the black threads caught the low light of their bedroom. Erza stalked across the floor and tugged on the strings knotted at his throat. The cape fell to the floor and her black fingernails clicked lightly over the buttons of his shirt. She stopped at the waistband of his pants.

"You didn't have _too_ much fun with Laxus at the bar did you?"

"I'm not drunk," he whispered touching the strap of her bra. "Are you?"

"No."

Erza's eyes scorched something inside of him as she unhooked the button at his waist and pulled the tails of his shirt free. He let her undress him before sliding his hands over her shoulders and up around her throat. Jellal angled her chin upward and took a bruising kiss. Erza's fingernails pierced his chest and she pushed him backwards into the bed. She didn't remove the lingerie and he wouldn't consider ruining it.

She moved fast and gripped his erection in her hand. He winced but also enjoyed the squeeze _very_ much. The smooth patch of satin between her legs slid easily over him in a rhythm that both excited and frustrated him. Even once her wetness soaked the panties and he was _ready_ she made no move to take them off. Erza bit her lip and grinned down at him. Her hair hung in her face and a truly _dark_ sound fell from her lips.

When he flipped her to her back and loomed over her, she didn't fight him. Instead, her eyes closed and she bit her lip as his fingers traced over the lace cups of her bra and the seams of the panties he decided he liked very much. Still, he didn't remove them. Jellal hooked his thumb in the edge of the panties, tugged them aside, and hesitated. She'd teased him earlier and he thought to return the favor.

He left kisses on the swells of her breasts, below her navel, and finally dipped between her thighs. Erza groaned and her back arched beautifully. Maybe she whispered his name, maybe not. When her breaths grew heavier, Jellal pulled his mouth away and settled his hips between her legs.

"That was mean," she breathed, draping her arms over his shoulders.

"Not any more mean than you dry humping me with that cruel grin earlier."

Erza's tongue darted out and touched his bottom lip. "Get on with it."

"I don't know, I kind of like it when you beg me."

She responded by digging her fingernails into his shoulders. "Fuck me, _now,"_ she whispered.

Jellal grinned against her lips and pushed all the way into her. The palm of his hand slid over her thigh and his fingers dug into her skin as he pinned it to his hip. He swallowed all her words and swears and breaths. Erza wasn't hard for him to figure out and he could get her off easy… if he _wanted._ Instead of letting her fall easy, he dragged it out.

As selfish as it probably was, Jellal thought Erza at her most _terribly_ beautiful when she was _trying_ very hard to reach a climax but couldn't. Her eyebrows dented and her teeth bit into her lip. Her breaths were thick and fast.

"Jellal," she hissed. _"Please."_

It's what he wanted. He wanted the desperate _please._

With a swift and merciless pace he finished her off with the quickness she'd wanted at the start. Her body softened along with his and she melted against him when he fell to his side.

"That wasn't a beg, by the way," she murmured.

"Of course not." He kissed her closed eyes and never lost the smug grin.

Because it _absolutely_ had been a beg.


End file.
